As Pawns Upon It
by DyrneKeeper
Summary: DH spoilers. Hermione saw again the chess board, and herself, and Ron and Harry as pawns upon it. But they were not children as they had been six years ago and they were not the only living players.


As Pawns Upon It.

Characters: Ron, Hermione, Harry  
Rating: Teen  
Summary: Mid-DH, spoliers. At the end, it returns to the beginning.  
Disclaimer: Not mine.

-&-

He was curled on the ground, his legs bent, his arms loose at his sides. His hands lay limp, the palms turned upward as if in supplication. He was still.

Ron was the first to move, but Hermione seized him, grabbed his arm, held him back. It would be death to touch him, but Ron could not bear to stand still, to admit the loss. He wanted nothing more than to kneel beside his friend and shake his shoulder and call his name until he woke up. But the green eyes were closed and only the dark hair moved, stirring in the wind. And Ron knew.

_He would not wake_.

Icy terror coursed through Ron's body. He stayed his struggles, unable to move, unable to hear his own cries or Hermione's sobs. This wasn't supposed to happen. Through all the fights, all the chances, all the risks, he had stayed by his side to thwart this very moment. And now, at the end, it had come anyway.

_This wasn't supposed to happen. _

Ron saw before him the giant chess board from their first year, but this time the pieces had faces. Mum. Dad. His brothers. Ginny. Sirius. Dumbledore. Cedric. Harry's parents. Hermione. Ron sat on horseback before them. Harry lay crumpled on the ground between.

"_That's chess!" _he heard himself shout, sounding very young and very far away. "_You have to make some sacrifices!"_

The pieces with the human faces did not look at him. Their eyes were on the body. The averted eyes bore more accusation than he could stand.

"_No!" _he cried to them, and his voice was older, his own again. "_I didn't mean this! It was supposed to be _me, I _was supposed to be the sacrifice, so Harry was free to ... he's the only one who could... and then it was supposed to end... One king or the other, and the game is over. _That's the way it is!"

Ron looked up from the dreadfully still form that was Harry's body and met Hermione's gaze. There was no accusation there; only a terrible fear and a worse grief. Her eyes were black with it.

---

Hermione had not been able to move, or shout, or scream, but she knew that she wept, that her sobs were harsh and that her heart was breaking. Shame mixed with her fear as an image of the giant, ancient chessboard rose in her mind; she had not been able to move then, either. She had been unwilling to make the sacrifice.

But then, the moment, the wonderful, terrible moment, when Harry's body had disappeared and such hope as she had thought had left the world sparked in her.

Hermione saw again the chess board, and herself, and Ron and Harry as pawns upon it. But they were not children as they had been six years ago and they were not the only living players. Neville was there, and Luna, and Ginny. Ron was not directing them; each person and piece was moving of its own will.

Luna slid sideways, capturing a rook... Ginny inched slowly forward... Ron leapfrogged over Harry to take a bishop... Hermione saw an opening—if she moved forward she could take a pawn threatening their king... but then the queen would take her... she hesitated, uncertain... and in the pause Harry stepped forward. Horrified, she watched as the pawn swung out and knocked him to the ground... she swayed on her spot; Ron was ashen faced... it was Neville who moved into the opening and took the opposing queen... there was a flicker of orange in the far corner and Hermione saw Ginny step onto to last row of spaces... there was something important about that, but she couldn't remember what... Harry stirred, picked himself up off the floor, shook his hair out of his eyes and walked to Ginny's spot... Ginny smiled at him and stepped off the board... Harry took her place...

---

Harry's eyes were open now, wider than they had ever been, as he looked upon the pale face, the red eyes, of his enemy, of _their _enemy. For a moment he saw again the giant chessboard of his first year, fires flickering on the edge of the cold stone floor.

Pieces lay scattered across the board, and dust was thick in the air. Standing on the periphery of the board, bathed in firelight and shadow, were...everyone. His parents. His teachers. Hagrid. Ron. Hermione. Ginny. Lupin. Tonks. Sirius. Fred and George. Neville. Mr. And Mrs Weasley. His classmates. The Order. Dumbledore. All those who had fought for him.

And those who had died for him. They had been pieces on this board; and they had been lost. He had lost them. He was the captain, the king. He had made the moves that had led to this, their loss...

_I'm sorry. I didn't know, I couldn't know, that it would end like this._

_I'm so sorry._

The figures at the edge of the board began to speak. That's chess, he heard someone call. You have to make some sacrifices, said someone else. We were the sacrifices, his mother whispered. We helped you to die—but now you live. Now look what you can do, said his father. The path is free to the king.

There was no choice to make, Harry knew; the choice had already been made, once and forever, in the mists of King's Cross Station. But it had been made years before that, really, with every move he had directed on the board. And now there was only this last move to make.

One step, another, a turn to face the faceless opponent.

"_EXPELLIARMUS!"_

Checkmate.

-&-


End file.
